Shackles of Time
by Loremaster333
Summary: When a task force of Imperial Space Marines travel through time to destroy a growing Chaos threat, they encounter more than they bargained for.
1. Some Notes

Some Notes on this fine book  
  
Ok. This is another project I've been workin on for awhile. Unlike NG:B, this is actually the beginning of the story. Also, I would like to note that this is the first Warhammer 40,000/Evangelion crossover that I know of. now, a few notes....  
  
The Lord Primarch: You'll note the name Michael again. Seems like I just love that name, eh? well, in this case, it's appropriate. Michael, in christian beliefs, is the Archangel and the Angel of Death. Space marines are known as 'The Angels of Death', and they are created from the 20 or so godlike beings called 'Primarchs.' Thus, these Primarchs are the Archangels of Death. Fits the EVA story too, neh??  
  
Also, for you 40K players out there, this is an ALTERED UNIVERSE! The Legio Astartes Dark Truth is MY creation, as is The Lord Primarch Michael. He was discovered on Alpha Prime [an Agro World] in the year of 988 M.41. He is now the leader of 10,000 marines. Don't like it? Then don't read the story. No-one's forcing you to..  
  
Also, some of you will be wondering about romance. There will be some, but it will be underlying. S/A, aka Shinji Asuka. Sorry Rei,Mana,Koaru[spelling not known......],whoever fans. but NG:B's Romance will be a secret. Don't assume anything. This is an Action tale, but with more cerebral use than is normal for an action story. Also, blood and guts ahead, so haul out the bleach.  
  
....... Can't think of anything more at the moment. Oh yes! This is a tide-me-over for y'all waiting for NG:B. Sorry bout the delay, but God do I have a ton of spelling, grammar, and even flow errors! gonna be a lot longer than I originally thought.   
  
Anyway, on with the show! 


	2. Arrival

Warhammer 40,000/Evangelion  
  
Shackles of Time  
  
By: Loremaster  
  
NOTE: Don't own EVA, Gainax does. Don't own Warhammer 40k, GW does. I DO own all ACCs here, as well as the Legion Dark Truth.   
  
"YaY! i'm talking!"  
  
^Only a psyker can know what i'm thinking!^  
  
"*I'm speaking in High or Low Gothic, a language of the 41st millenium. HUZZAH! Note that these marks are only given when there are charicters that don't speak Gothic around though*"   
  
***********************************************************************  
  
As the Shackles of Time drop to the floor  
  
All the madmen cry  
  
'Tis time to Die!  
  
And let slip the Dogs of War  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Lord Primarch Michael awoke. There wasn't anything special about the way he woke up. In fact, he awoke this way every morning. Putting on his day uniform, he exited his quarters on the battle barge, "Hawking", and made his way to the bridge. As he exited the turbolift, the magnificance of the warp astounded him. The shifting colors, the churning energies, all of it beautiful. "Good morning, Lord Admiral Relat. I trust we are making good time?" he asked, as soon as he had regained his composure.  
  
Lord Admiral Niles Relat, a balding man in his early 50's with a chubby build and a jubulant face, turned his chair around to look at the Lord Primarch. He stood, and saluted. "Yes sir. We'll be arriving at Ancient Terra in another quarter hour or so, if the warp stays calm,"  
  
Michael nodded, and returned the salute. "Very good. What is the status of the other vessels?"  
  
He was referring to the other two vessels in his task force. The Administratum of Ancient Terra had requested his presence, along with 1000 of his marines. Normally, such a request of that magnatude was never made to chapters of the Adeptus Astartes. However, this was not the Adeptus Astartes. This was the one remaining Legio Astartes led by the one remaining Primarch. Such was the size of the Legion, known as The Dark Truth, that 1000 marines were but a single company. It took three battle barges to ferry them to whereever they may be needed. On board the battle barges was the Third Company, the elite of The Dark Truth. The "Hawking" was only the lead vessel in this convoy. The other two were the "Errant Venture" and the "Rapscalion".   
  
"Sir, 'Errant Venture' reports all go, no problems. 'Rapscalion' is reporting a minor quarrel between marines and crew, and some minor damage to a bulkhead was incurred. That's all, sir,"  
  
Michael nodded again, and returned to looking out the viewport. "Assign those marines to 10 days fasting and confinement for brawling. I'll not have it in my Legion," Other than that brawl, however, all was going well. They were on schedule, and there was no sign of the Squat-designed shielding breaking down or weakening. "I will be in the chapel, listening to the morning prayer. Notify me if anyth--"  
  
He was cut off, however, as the "Hawking" was buffeted by something. "Report!" Admiral Relat yelled into the crew pit.  
  
"Energy blasts sir! Sensors indicate Chaos energy patterns!" cried the sensor specialist.  
  
"Chaos!" Michael breathed. "How could they follow us?"  
  
Admiral Relat stood. "Well," he said. "However they did it, they're heading for Terra."  
  
"Damn. But they must know that they cannot succede where almost 10 traitor legions of Space Marines with traitor Guard and Legio Titanicus support failed!"  
  
"Sir! Enemy ship has left warp space. We are now re-entering realspace."  
  
The vista outside of the viewport changed from a maelstrom of color, to black backing, white dots, and a blue-green planet. "Sir! Detecting another three enemy ships in orbit!" the sensor officer shouted.  
  
"God damn it! How in Hell are we gonna stop em? Those could be traitor Marines! They would outnumber us!" Relat cried.  
  
Michael clasped a friendly hand over his back. "Don't worry, my friend. We'll stop 'em. We're Marines. Give me communication with the other ships,"  
  
Relat handed him a speaking horn. Michael took it, and lifted it to his mouth. "Attention, Marines of The Dark Truth. Prepare for combat. The Emperor sends us to do battle for him! Remember, We Are The Mailed Fist Of The Emperor! The Angels Of Death! We shall not lose. Luck be with you. That is all," Michael then replaced the horn, and left for his quarters.  
  
...  
  
"Lord, we have new sensor readings coming from the Chaos ships. They seem to be creating a 'Temporal Disturbance of sorts,"  
  
Michael did a double-take. "Admiral, please tell me you didn't just say they're creating a Temporal Disturbance. Please,"  
  
Relat shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lord, but they are. Why?"  
  
Michael contorted his face with frustration. "Damn your eyes! Don't you see? They're gonna take Terra before the Imperium, before The Emperor, before Space Marines! Sometime in the past," Michael breathed. "Send to all ships: 'Enter Temporal Distortion'. Authorization: 'Red'. Helm: take us into that distortion."  
  
With that, the "Hawking", "Errant Venture", and "Rapscalion" increased to full speed, and set course for the center of the Temporal Distortion. The Chaos squadron was almost in, but the Marine ships were gaining. It was to be a race. The first Chaos ship entered, then a second, then a third, then the fourth entered just as the "Hawking" reached the distortion. Then the "Hawking" entered, then the "Errant Venture", and finally, just before the opening snapped shut, the "Rapscalion".  
  
...  
  
"Report!"  
  
"We've made it. The Rapscallion is reporting damage to arrainment and some casualties among the crew to a hull breach. No Marine casualties. It appears that the Chaos ships are putting down on the planet."  
  
"What year is it?"  
  
That was the important question. What year indeed? "Uh.......... sir? It's uh......... it's........ 015 M.03!"  
  
Lord Admiral Relat was shocked. "By the old calander, that is 2015! My God. Nearly 40000 years into the past..."  
  
"Yes Admrial. And so are they. We must put down. Navigation! What's the nearest city?"  
  
The navigation officer looked up, then back at his terminal. "Uh, sensors are scanning. What? The signs aren't in Gothic!"  
  
Michael moved over to the officer. "Show me..." he said, intriuged.  
  
The officer hit a switch, and a viewer screen popped up with an example. A mash of lines and dots and slashes was but one character. "Hmmmm. Looks like an old language. What part is this from?"  
  
The officer looked at a small reading. "The Japanese Islands, sir,"  
  
"Comms officer! Translate this, on the double! You might try the historical language database, courtesy of our Squat brethren. Nav, prep the Thunderhawk gunships, and have them set us down on the outskirts, instruct the other ships to do the same."  
  
...  
  
Michael raced into the Thunderhawk gunship as soon as the boarding ramp lowered. "Brother Marine, why are you rushing into the transport?"  
  
^That voice, I know that voice,^ Michael turned, and saw his oldest friend at his heels. "Chief Brother Librarian Williams! Come on, get on board! We haven't much time if we're to make contact with the inhabitants of this time,"  
  
Chief Librarian Gunther Williams slowly walked onto the Thunderhawk, his cape swirling around, revieling his power armor and force axe. He was tall, but only average for a Space Marine. At 7 foot 1 inch, 168 pounds, he was still a close combat powerhouse. Not to mention his psyker abilities. He was formidable in that department. A grizzled veteran, he had fought many a mind war against enemy psykers. "I'm all ready, and all the men are in their Thunderhawks. All the Brethren are just utterly prepped to tear into those foul traitors," He said, in his usual low, cryptic, tones.  
  
Michael smiled, a gesture that was hidden by his beaked MK VI styled helmet. However, the guesture was not lost upon the venerable psyker, who read Michael's thoughts. They clambered aboard, and the ramp swung up with the whine of hydraulics and shut with an audible hiss.  
  
...  
  
The Thunderhawk gunship swung into the landing area, a huge concrete slab on the outskirts of the city. Over 60 other Thunderhawk gunships followed them in, landing in neat rows. Their ingress/egress ramps swung down as one, and they debauched approxamately 700 Space Marine warriors of the Imperium of Man. The remaining 300 were distributed evenly amongst the three ships, as an Honor Guard.  
  
"Third Company, Attention!" Lord Primarch Michael called out over the comm. net. "Allright. Gunther and I are going into the city, see if we can't scrounge up some allies and a base. I wish to take with me the 345th Avengers, the 351st Dragoons, the 321st Bombasts, and the 362nd Spacers. Everyone else, Brother Captain Mikaleus is in charge, with Brother Apothicary Reloq as his second in command. We shall return," And with that, they moved out towards the city, 40 Marines, the last Primarch, and a psyker.  
  
...  
  
Veteran Sergeant Wedge Zethear, leader of the 351st Dragoons, turned to his friend and second, Stanly 'Sten' Stendeck. The assault Marine was a little nautious, but he wasn't gonna puke this time. "Sten, will you ever tell me where you're from? As well as why you're always airsick?"  
  
Sten turned to Wedge. "No, not yet. Some day, perhaps, but not yet. Anyway, how has Amandalyn been lately?"  
  
"Hey, no changing the subject. So, perhaps you're from a water-world? Or maybe from the Squat Homew-"  
  
Wedge was interupted by a bark from Marine Lister Shlov. "Wedge, we've got to get moving, the Primarch wants us with him,"  
  
"Wepons drawn, or holstered?"  
  
It was a more important question than it seemed. Having drawn weapons while trying to make allies wasn't very good for sucess. By the same token, having holstered weapons in a warzone was a good way to get killed, even for power armored Space Marines.  
  
"Holstered. We're a peace envoy,"  
  
Wedge smirked. "So we're going for an Alliance, eh?"  
  
Lister nodded. "Then we're gonna fight that Chaos filth. Kick 'em back to the Eye of Terror!"  
  
"Praise be The God-Emperor!" Corporal Ptlam Kikousky piped in.  
  
Wedge just rolled his eyes at Kikousky's display of religious fevour.  
  
...  
  
As the party moved forward, they began to enter the city. Huge building rose upward, scraping the sky. Wedge was in awe over these. On his homeworld of Alpha Prime, which was an Agro-World where most of the continents were dominated by crop fields, the sight of skyscrapers was a rare one. Ptlam was wondering why they were so small. That was normal, for he was from a Hive world, where about 2 billion people would be packed into a single city, called a 'Hive'. These rose miles into the sky, and were spread over a planet. These worlds sometimes have populations of over 500 billion people. The people of this city, however, had obviously never seen Marines before. Women and Men ran, children gazed in awe. "Attention people of this fair city. We have come to see your chief military commander. We wish to make a pact! Can anyone tell me wh-" Michael was cut off by a sharp report of a sniper rifle, and the force of the round impacting his Artificer Armor slammed him on his back, scratching his power pack. "Take that, alien bastard!" the now-seen sniper said.  
  
Michael clambered to his feet, much to the sniper's suprise. "*Marines, regard anyone with a weapon as a hostile. Fire for effect,*" And with that, he unslung his boltgun, cocked it, and fired a single round at the sniper. The bolt round flew true and impacted in the man's skull, which exploded like an overripe melon, splattering brains, blood, and bone all over the wall behind him. Enemy troopers wearing baege jumpsuits with orange highlights ran forward to assail the marines, firing with automatic machineguns. The lead slugs flew into the Space Marines, ricocheting off their armor. Next to Michael, Veteran Sergeant Terk Tholan, leader of the 345th Avengers, gently caressed the trigger of his bolt gun, sending about 15 rounds out towards the gathering troopers in a space of 5 seconds. The rounds impacted the troops, and blew them into blood and gore, showering their comerades with blood, staining their clothing. Brother Marine Brostin Charthan, a large, muscular man who always smelled of promethium, brought his flamer to bear, and fired. A jet of burning fuel shot out at the troops, igniting them. They screamed, ran, dropped, but to no avail. They were drenched in promethium. The screaming was more than some could take. The remaining enemy troopers surrendered. 5 members of the Spacers stayed behind to hold them. "Forward!" Michael yelled, and the marines ran, splashing through the pools of blood their weapons had made. It would have stained their armor, but for one thing. Their armor was already the color of blood.  
  
...  
  
Terk ran as fast as his genetically enhanced body could carry him. The enemy was just ahead, and he wanted nothing more than to tear into them with all his might. He moved his Boltgun to his shoulder, and fired. Mass reactive rounds lanced out, striking the baege and orange suited enemy soldiers. They leapt and contorted as the rounds detonated inside their bodies. Gore and blood sprayed backward, coating the walls behind them. Next to Terk, Wedge, Sten, Lister, Ptlam, and the rest of the 351st Dragoons shot upward, their jump packs lighting fiery trails into the sky. They came down directly behind the entrenched defenders, and cut into them....  
  
Wedge drew his chainsword as he dropped, and cycled it to maximum revs for luck. He hit the pavement, crouched, and blew a man's skull into oblivion with his pistol. He stepped up, swung his chainsword in a horizontal slash that opened up a woman's belly, spilling entrails onto the pavement, already slick with blood. The woman dropped her primitive auto gun, clutched her belly, and screamed. Wedge turned, swung his bolt pistol around, and heard the crack of a skull snapping. "Sten!" he called over the comm net. "Gimme a hand here!"  
  
Sten ran forward, and swung his chainsword, decapitating a soldier that was trying to impale Wedge with a bayonet. Blood sprayed all over Sten, making his armor glisten in the sun. Wedge turned, and fired once, twice, three times into the crowd. The soldiers that were hit blew into blood mist and became broken bodies in the streets. "Charge! Forward! For the Honor of the Legion!" The Lord Primarch cried, and Wedge obeyed with his squad.  
  
...  
  
Terk leapt forward with his squad, Brostin cutting a swath of firey death through the beleauged defenders. They screamed, twisted, and wreithed with agony, as the burning promethium consumed them. Then Brostin faltered for a second. "Terk, there's a machine gun nest up ahead. Can't reach it with my flamer,"  
  
The Spacers, a tactical squad lead by Sergeant Jilako, were advancing alongside the Avengers, also halted. Marine Lukins, an expert sniper who's aim was regarded as the best in the Legion, spoke up. "Respectfully sir, he's off." he leaned in a little. "They've got about five nests there. Maybe more, can't tell. Too much smoke,"  
  
Terk joined the discussion at this point. "That's gotta be an entrance to sommat like a forward command post, or maybe a temple. We've gotta tell the Primarch,"  
  
Jilako looked around. "There he is, over there with Gunther," he pointed to a small melee in which the Primarch and Librarian were involved. "Well, who's gonna tell 'em?"  
  
Terk thought, raised an arm, and blew the head off of another soldier that was sneaking up on them. "I'm thinking we'll need Wedge to get the message. Where is he?"  
  
...  
  
Wedge was, at the moment, engaged in a close assault with those same baege-suited troops. He swung his chainsword in a horizontal arc, and it bit into the side of a trooper. It began to gnaw, throwing blood, skin, and bone into the air. The man screamed, shaking due to the reving of the weapon. Wedge withdrew the blood-slick sword and sliced again. This time, the weapon bit into the man's spine, shattering it. Bone chips flew outward as the man sunk silently to the ground, a pool of his own blood expanding outward from his broken body. A ping sound was heard repeatedly, a sound that heralded oncoming troopers. Wedge turned, and let out a mighty warcry. The troopers stopped, and began shaking. Wedge then blew two of them into blood-mist and twisted bodes. One survivor wet his pants, and fell to the ground, terrified. The others turned tail and ran. Wedge turned to his men. "Ha! Showed them not to mess with the Dark Truth!"  
  
Ptlam turned to Wedge, his helmet smeared with blood and gore. "Wedge, I've just recieved a request from Terk. He needs us to get the Primarch's attention. Something about a temple or command post?"  
  
Wedge spun around to face Ptlam. "Where is he? Where is the Primarch?"  
  
Ptlam looked around. "There. He's in one Hell of a furball,"  
  
Wedge turned, following Ptlam's gaze. Then he saw the Primarch, accompanied by the Chief Librarian, Gunther. Together they were a whirling maelstrom of death and destruction, cutting down all that opposed them. However, many of the enemy troopers did not flee from them, but instead rushed towards their doom. "Well, we'd better assist them," Wedge said.  
  
His troops nodded solomly at their duty. Wedge barked a terse order to initiate jump packs, and he, along with his squad, leapt into the sky.  
  
...  
  
Chief Librarian Gunther swung his force axe downward, slicing a man in two with the wickedly powerful energy blade. He then brought the blade flat against his chest, handle pointing toward the ground, and began to use his psychic powers. As crackling warp energy was channeled, he suddenly pointed his force axe at a cluster of five enemy troopers, and thrust it in a forward manner. A ball of fire sprung up amongst the troops, engulfing them in preternatural energies. They had not even the time to scream. "Michael, we must fall to a higher position. We are too low to press any advantage," he said, quite calmly.  
  
Michael nodded, and looked around as he fought. Then, off to the right, he spied a small hill, it's grasses swaying gently with the wind. "Up there! Forward!" he yelled, and ran.  
  
...  
  
Wedge came down atop the hill the Primarch and Gunther were running for. Calmly drawing his bolt pistol, he took aim at the pursuing troopers, and fired. Mass-reactive rounds flew out of his pistol, and slammed into the ranks of the enemy. Troops leapt into the air and contorted, creating an artificial rain. A rain of blood and organs. Screams issued fourth from the troopers, and not just from the wounded. Their comerades, covered in the blood and entrails of their former friends also screamed in anguish. Next to Wedge, Sten aimed his plasma pistol, and incinerated a trooper in a blaze of broiling plasmatic energy. "Lord Primarch! Come quickly, I have urgent information!" Wedge yelled.  
  
The Lord Primarch ran quickly to Wedge, having unslung his master crafted Bolt gun earlier, and began to fire into the ranks of the enemy. His Kraken penetrator rounds flashed through the space between his gun and his targets, but only briefly. The rounds soon found new logings within the bodies of the advancing troopers. The supercharged explosives within the rounds blew the troops into blood mist, leaving no bodies. Finally faced with a weapon of such power, the baege-clad troops fell back, leaving their dead behind. "Allright, now what's this information you've got?"  
  
Wedge swallowed, and began to relay the information to the Lord Primarch. "Sir, Veteran Sergeant Tholan believes that he and Sergeant Jilako have discovered an enterance to either a temple or a base. They're requesting your presence, Sir,"  
  
The Lord Primarch nodded, and thought. ^Well, this is important, however it's gonna be a hell of a fight to get there.^ He shifted. ^We'll havta chance it. We've no other choice.^ He moved forward, and turned to face the assembled marines. "Brothers. What Wedge has brought to my attention is worth so much to our victory here. We must make certain that we all return to the location of the Temple. Let us make haste, for our enemies gather to attack us even now. For The Emperor, For Humanity, For The Dark Truth. Charge!" and with that, the gathered marines ran toward the temple.  
  
...  
  
Brother Marine Lukins snapped his sight onto his Boltgun, and took aim at the machine gun nests. Automatic range-finders clicked the range at just over 300 meters. He waited, silently. He did not have permission to fire upon those defences from the Lord Primarch, and he did not wish to yet. If the enemy launched a counter attack, their pitiful 15 marines would be swept away in a tide of baege jumpsuits. Already Marine Tenzent was wounded, a solid lead slug had found purchase in his collarbone from a richochet off the bottom of his helmet. He was in minor pain, but his Larrimans Blood had already healed the wound. "Lukey?" Marine Brigand whispered over the comm net. "You there?"  
  
"Yea Briggs, what's up?"  
  
The large marine shifted oddly. "I think the Primarch's comin with Wedge and his boys," he looked again. "Can't tell. Could you-"  
  
Lukins sighed, and turned. "Yea Briggs, I'll look," He peered through his scope, pointing it towards some figures running toward the small makeshift dugout. "Yeap Briggs, it's them,"  
  
Brigand sighed, letting his missile launcher sag a little. "Good. Hope they're allright,"  
  
Lukins looked at Brigand. The big marine was looking right back at him. "Luky, you think we'll get home?"  
  
Lukins thought. ^Home... 998.M41^ The date of when they were from. "Yea Briggs, I'm sure we'll make it back," He threw a smile on, though it was lost behind his helmet. "Don't worry about it!"  
  
"Sure thing, Luky, sure thing..." but he didn't sound convinced.  
  
...  
  
Sergeant Samalt Bins of the 321st Bombasts surveyed the destruction his squad had caused. Blood flowed freely through the gutters of the streets, and bodies were strewn nonchalantly in the roads. He looked to his left, then his right, surveying his Devastator squad. ^I always thought that our squad type was aptly named,^ He turned to face his marines. He noted the Heavy Bolter gunner was cleaning the breach during the lull in fighting. His Multi-Melta gunner was checking his weapon's twin barrels for signs of damage, as was the Plasma Cannon marine. His Missile Launcher gunner had loaded a Frag missile, in preperation for more infantry. The rest of the squad checked their Bolt guns. He did not, though. He had already inspected his bolt pistol, and his chainsword revved quite healthily. The comm net suddenly crackled to life. The Lord Primarch. "Brothers. What Wedge has brought to my attention is worth so much to our victory here. We must make certain that we all return to the location of the Temple. Let us make haste, for our enemies gather to attack us even now. For The Emperor, For Humanity, For The Dark Truth. Charge!"  
  
Samalt revved his chainsword for luck. It was an old superstition, as old as the Legion itself, which wasn't that old. Only 5 years ago The Lord Primarch had been discovered on Alpha Prime, frozen cryogenicly. But now was not the time for a history lesson. "You heard the Lord Primarch! To this temple!" He turned to his second in command, Brother Corporal Yuten Quxal. "Yuten, you recieved a data burst with that, right?"  
  
Yuten nodded. "Here, over in this sector," he pointed to a location on a dataslate.  
  
Samalt grinned, his exposed head smattered with blood. "Let's move out,"  
  
...  
  
The Lord Primarch arrived at the dugout, sweating slightly, his armor splattered with blood and grass. "Terk! And Jilako! Greetings!"  
  
Terk stood. "Greetings, Lord Primarch. We thought it best that we notify you of this devlopment,"  
  
Michael peered out of the dugout, towards the machine gun nests. "Hm. Doesn't look like a temple to me, more like a base. Kinda like the Titan Legion hangars on Mars. I wonder...... what if they have Titans?"  
  
Terk spoke up at this. "If they did, wouldn't they have deployed them by now?"  
  
Wedge turned toward his friend. "Maybe they are having problems with startup?"  
  
Michael nodded. "Perhaps. But whatever the case is, we'll need to get to cracking that nut fast. Where are the Bombasts?"  
  
...  
  
At this very moment, Sergeant Samalt and his squad were moving cautiously through the city streets. It was dangerous, for this was an enemy-held city, full to bursting with those damnable baege-clad troops. Samalt peered around a building and down a small alleyway. In it, he saw a machine gun nest, manned by two enemy troops. He motioned to his men to stay quiet, and cocked his bolt pistol. Whipping around the corner, he snapped his pistol up, and was greeted by a hail of lead. The primitive bullets ricocheted off of his blood-crimson ceramite armor. Then he returned fire. Twice he squeezed the trigger, and twice the weapon spat mass-reactive rounds at his foe. Each round impacted the men, slamming them to the rear wall of the alley, and smearing their intestines on a nearby dumpster. "Move out, we've got a 1/2 kilometer to go,"  
  
His men responded, not with voice, but by moving to areas of cover and leap-frogging through the streets. Samalt ran forward, taking cover behind a mail recepticle. Peering out from behind it, he saw their destination. The dugout. "Forward! Our destination is not far!"  
  
...  
  
Lord Primarch Rutz peered out at the advancing marines. "Samalt. Gunther, he's arrived,"  
  
The Chief Librarian nodded. "Indeed. It seems as though his men have gotten quite a workout, judging by the blood smattered about their persons,"  
  
As the Bombasts finally entered the dugout, Sergeant Samalt proceded to move towards The Lord Primarch to give a report of his actions. As Samalt's report concluded, the Lord Primarch nodded thoughtfully. "Very good work, Bins. Now we need your men to provide support as we charge that facility, understood?"  
  
Samalt looked out at the base. ^Hm......... that's funny.^ "M'Lord, if I may make to be bold, that facility reminds me of the entrances to Squat cities. I am thinking that perhaps the base is underground,"  
  
The Lord Primarch took another look out at the base. ^My God, he's right.^ He turned back to Samalt. "You've got something there, Bins. Pity that Warlord Jacob's forces are still in 998 M.41,"  
  
Gunther turned towards the assembled marines. He looked them over, both physically and psychically, inspecting them for signs of fear or anxiety. He found none, as was propor. He then spoke, taking the temporary role of Battlefield Chaplain. "'They shall be pure of heart and strong of body, untainted by doubt and unsullied by self aggrandisement. They will be bright stars in the firmament of battle. Angels of Death whose shining wings bring swift annihilation to the enemies of Man. So shall it be for a thousand times a thousand years, unto the very end of eternity and the extinction of mortal flesh.' Those were the words of Lord Primarch Robute Gulliman. Indeed, we shall bring death to our enemies soon. Remember. The enemies of The Emperor fear many things. They fear discovery, defeat, despair, and death. But there is one thing they fear above all others. They fear the wrath of the Space Marines! Let us deliver that wrath with flaming sword and noble bolter!" As one, the assembled 35 marines let up a cheer that evolved into a battlecry.  
  
Michael turned to Gunther. "Brother, you've incited their battle-lust quite well. Will it hold through combat?"  
  
The librarian took on a solomn face. "In the words of The Emperor. '...And they shall know no fear.' This is true of them. It shall hold, brother,"  
  
...  
  
Meanwhile, inside the very base the Dark Truth marines were enderving to take, were two men. They sat on a balcony that overlooked a crew pit, which overlooked a hangar. One sat behind a desk, his gloved hands folded across his face. The other stood, hands clasped behind his back. "Hm... the old men have tougher troops than we expected," said the standing man.  
  
"No, I do not think this is their work. This is the work of an outside force,"  
  
The standing man turned toward his companion. "Well, whoever they are, they've nearly wiped our forces out. Should we deploy the Ev-"  
  
"No, there is no need. This will rid us of some spies anyway. Let them continue, but keep the Children safe at all costs,"  
  
...  
  
"Brother Corporal Lukins. You may fire, when ready," announced the Lord Primarch.  
  
^Finally!^ he thought. ^This should be easy!^ And he took aim. And fired.  
  
The mass reactive rounds lanced outward, and slammed into the enemy troopers manning the machine guns. They flew backward with the force of impact, and blew into bloodmist and entrails that splattered against the wall. "Charge! Forward!" the Lord Primarch yelled as he leapt into action.  
  
...  
  
Terk charged fourth with all his might, blasting at his foe as he ran towards the giant doors to the...... whatever it was. He fired left and right, cutting a swath through the foe with his squad. Then his Bolt Gun stopped firing and clicked. ^New clip now^ he thought as he changed clips.  
  
...  
  
Wedge came down harder than he expected to, and nearly fell on his ass as a result. Sten came down next to him, in a perfect crouch, and fired his plasma pistol at the enemy ranks. Troopers were incinerated in blazing plasma, leaving nothing but steaming spreads of ash. Lister came down next, screaming a battlecry in his native tounge, blasting the foe with his bolt pistol. Ptlam came down next to Lister, chanting an Imperial war hymn as he fired his bolt pistol alongside Lister's. Marine Grandel Ruhk landed next to Wedge, and a hail of lead blew him off his feet. He picked himself up, and aimed his bolt pistol and began to blast at the foe.  
  
...  
  
Michael swung the Bringer of Truth, his gilded power sword and his one link to The Emperor, down upon his foe's head. The energy-sheathed blade cut cleanly through his head, cauterizing as it cut. The man fell in two directions at once. Michael then charged forward and rammed his fist through another trooper's stomach. Pushing the dead body off his arm, he de-activated his sword, sheathed it, and drew two of his four Bolt Pistols. He charged through the fray, blasting bodies into bloody, broken things that littered the space in front of the gates.  
  
...  
  
Gunther fired his Bolt gun repeatedly into the rapidly thinning ranks of the baege-clad troops with one hand. With the other, he carried his force axe. He charged into the foe, firing point-blank, blowing blood-mist out of enemy troopers. Then his bolter clacked empty. He slammed it into a troopers gut, causing a gout of blood to spill from the woman. Leaving the weapon where it was, he took his force axe in both hands and cut a horizontal slash that felled about six or seven enemy troops.  
  
...  
  
Brostin stood next to his sergeant, Terk. His flamer tank was sloshing, indicating the near-emptiness of the weapon. He let loose a final, long, gout of fire that seared the final few enemy troopers. He then removed the empty tank from the bottom of the weapon with a twist, and let it drop to the cratered pavement.  
  
...  
  
The Lord Primarch holstered his pistols and turned toward the assembled squads. Samalt's squad was moving forward to their position to recieve new orders, and the other squads had formed into rows. Suprisingly, there were no casualties. Not even a single battle brother was wounded. ^Impressive,^ Michael thought. Then Samalt's squad arrived, and took their place among the assembled brethren. The Primarch removed his helmet, reveling a thin, shapely face topped with neatly trimmed blonde hair. Unsupprisingly, he had a scar on his left cheek. A reminder of the kiss of a Shriken Catapult. He cleared his throat, and spoke. "My brothers, my battle-kin. We have won a great victory today. However, that victory will be a hollow one, an empty one, if we cannot take this structure. Unfortunately they have jammed our comm-net so we shall be on our own for now. But we are the Space Marines! The Emperor's Chosen! 35 in number are all we need to defeat an army of hundreds! We have been without casualty today, and with skill, determination, and zeal we shall remain that way. And so shall it be remembered in the annals of Imperial history, that on this day 35 warriors of The Emperor fought their hardest against a foe that is numberless, and won a great victory without the loss of a single marine. We are the Dark Truth, and we shall accomplish this," with that, he unslung his Bolt Gun, drew the Bringer of Truth and powered it, and yelled a battlecry.  
  
As Gunther withdrew his spent Bolter from the dead woman to change it's clip, the battlecry was taken up by the assembled battle-brethren. Gunther thought, then joined in the yelling. It would be good for morale to see the Chief Librarian roaring a bloodcry. He jammed a fresh clip into his Bolt Gun, and prepaired to charge the gates.  
  
...  
  
Michael turned to one of the gates, and held the Bringer of Truth high above his head. "Prepare for combat!" he yelled. And with that, he plunged the ancient and arcane weapon into the gates. With it securely lodged in the steel, he began to cut a hole large enough for the Marines to fit through three at a time. When the cutting was finished, he sheathed the weapon, and pointed his Bolter at the gate, and kicked the now freed section of steel in. "For The Emperor!" he yelled over the comm-net.  
  
...  
  
Terk leapt through the hole with Brostin and Marine Chakran immediatly after the Lord Primarch and Chief Librarian had entered. As soon as Terk had gone through, he dove to the side to make room for more marines, and was immediatly cut down by sustained machine-gun fire. The gunners cheered, believeing that they had at last felled one of the monsters, but that died away to cries of denial as Terk stood again. Those same cries were cut short as Terk blew the men manning the machine guns to bloody rags with sustained Bolt Gun fire. Blood splattered the insides of their concrete bunkers, contrasting the sterile white paint. Brostin squeezed the trigger on his flamer and a burning lance of promethium shot out, scorching all before it. Marine Chakran ran forward, his bayonet attached to his Bolt Gun. He fired indiscriminately into the enemy soldiers, and finally ran his bayonet through a man's eye socket. Blood jetted out from the broken arteries in the man's brain, coating Chakran and the floor, where it joined the rapidly expanding blood-pools from the bodies of the defenders already cut down.  
  
...  
  
Lord Primarch Michael rammed his Bolter through a man's stomach, pulping it into a gush of gore and smashed intestines. Michael yanked the weapon from the dead man's stomach forcefully. As the pulped corpse fell to the floor, Michael turned and carressed the trigger of his weapon gently, sending Kraken penetraitor rounds slamming into the enemy soldiers. One by one they burst like balloons, spraying their interiors out against the walls and floor. He then turned, drew his Squat-made bayonet from it's thigh sheath, and threw it down the hall, impaling the final trooper through the eye. "Secure the area! Spread out! Prep for battle at all times," he said over the comm-net as he went to retrieve his knife.  
  
The entryway was a mess now. Blood, internal organs, and bodies were strewn about the length and width of the area, along with spent shells, pools of burning promethium, and empty clips. The 35 Dark Truth marines had regrouped, and were dug in so as to repel an attack. However, no such attack came. The 345th Avengers were on guard duty, along with the 321st Bombasts. Marines Brostin and Chakran, along with Veteran Sergeant Terk sat near one of the secondary hallways, watching. "Maybe we got them all." Marine Chakran said.  
  
Terk turned to look at Chakran. "Not in a long shot. If I was back on Dethidri 3, I'd wager my desert-wheeler that we've not gotten even half of them,"  
  
Brostin looked back at his Sergeant arguing with Chakran. "Nah boss, I think Chakran's right. We may have gotten almost all of them. There sure were a lot of them in the city,"  
  
"And what if they were just PDF? This place could have private security forces," Terk leaned closer to the two. "Even though they'd be easy pickings for us, they may have more advanced weaponry. Weaponry that could take us out, or at least wound us seriously,"  
  
"I would be amazed if they had anything like that, Sergeant," Lord Primarch Michael said as he appeared behind the trio of Marines. The three shot up and were about to salute, but Michael waved them at ease. He sat down, removed his helmet, and took a long drink from his canteen. "Whiskey, anyone?"  
  
The Marines removed their tin cups from their belts and held them out. Michael poured them a generous portion of the liquer, and took another sip himself. "Sir, why do we wait here?" Terk asked as he sipped his drink.  
  
Michael looked down the corridor, then shifted his gaze to Terk. "Gunther is attempting to contact the rest of the Company. He's probably to far to though, we've gone a long way from the LZ,"  
  
Brostin took another sip of his liquer as Chakran fished in his stowage pockets on his belt. "Ah! The perfect thing to compliment such a fine drink!" he exclaimed as he liberated four long, thick cigars from the pouch and offered them to his compatriots.  
  
Michael took the cigar and lit it on Brostin's flame-ignitor. He lifted the the cigar to his mouth, and took a deep drag from it. Exhaling, he made a perfect smoke-ring, which floated over the Marines, like a halo. "Perhaps that is a good omen, sir," Brostin said.  
  
Michael nodded. ^I certainly hope so, Brostin^ he thought. ^I certainly hope so,^  
  
...  
  
"It's no use, I'm too far," Gunther said at last.  
  
He sat down, unhooked his canteen, and took a swill of water. Using his psyker powers in combat usually didn't take much effort, but then again he didn't try to send a message over a distance of more than 50 miles during combat. The strain of trying to send a message to either the orbiting Battle Barges or to the rest of the company was demanding. It would be no trouble for an Astropath, but that was one thing Gunther wasn't. "I'm sure you did your best, sir," came a soft voice to Gunther's rear.  
  
Thanks to his psychic powers, Gunther knew that voice to belong to Brother-Corporal Lukins Chalth, the best shot in the entire Legion. The man was soft-spoken by nature, due to his upbringing on Ralkin XI, a world covered in forests. He had been a hunter of dangerous game, so the talent for quiet had never left him. "Thanks Lukins," Gunther replied. "I should go see the Lord Primarch, will you accompany me?"  
  
"I would be honored, Chief Librarian,"  
  
...  
  
Lord Primarch Michael Rutz, having finished his smoke and conversation with his battle-kin, was inspecting the scattered sentry groups. Most were in good spirits, talking, joking, smoking, but still keeping a sharp eye out. "Lord Primarch, I am reporting as per your request," came the low, cryptic tones of Chief Librarian Gunther Williams.  
  
Michael turned, and began to speak. "I take it that you were unsuccessful in your endevours?"  
  
"Yes, lord. I am sorry,"  
  
Michael smiled. "It is no matter, my friend. We must move out soon anyway," and with that, he turned to his men.  
  
"Attention!" Michael snapped over the comm-net, and the brethren assembled into squads.  
  
Michael strode forward so that all of his Marines could see him easily. "My Brothers," he began. "We have fought across hundreds of worlds, against countless traitors and Xenos scum. Today we have fought as we have never fought before. However, I must ask it of you again. For though we have entered their base, we are far from their heart. We must move quickly, so as to tear it out whilst it still beats! We know not what we shall face within these walls, save for Honor, Duty, and Sacrifice. But that is what we always face, and we have conquered that before! Act with Honor in your Duty, and always know the Sacrifice of your duty! For The Emperor!"  
  
"For The Emperor!" the assembled Marines echoed.  
  
...  
  
Terk motioned with a jab of his fist for his squad to advance with him. So far, his Avengers had not encountered any resistance, but they stayed ready none the less. Chakran hid in a doorway, with Brostin and another Marine. Marines Brakner, Refiren, and Rutel were with Terk, hiding around an L-corridor. The remaining four were holding down the rearguard of the Tactical Squad. As soon as Terk had finished the jabbing motion, his squad formed into a double-line diamond formation and procedded down the empty corridor.  
  
...  
  
Meanwhile, the two men in command of the base the Dark Truth now moved through were in a discussion. "They have not shot surrenderers, perhaps we should surrender?" said the old man that stood by the one that sat.  
  
"Hm. Perhaps, but I do not wish to think what they may do to us if we do,"  
  
The old man looked at his companion with an odd expression etched into his face. "It is better than near certain death,"  
  
"Very well," The sitting man stood, and walked over to the edge of the balcony. "Captain! Inform those invaders of our intentions to surrender. Immediatly,"  
  
The Captain, a woman of 28 years with dark purple hair, shouted her acknowledgement, and made preperations to surrender.  
  
...  
  
Michael peered out from behind a corner, looking into what appeared to be a barracks room. "All clear Gunther," he said.  
  
Gunther nodded, and followed the venerable 15 year-old through the seemingly abandoned base. "Brother, I'm getting a feeling we may be finished with this soon. I cannot be sure how though,"  
  
At these words, Michael tightened his grip on his Master Crafted BoltGun. "You are certain?"  
  
Gunther nodded. If the Chief Librarian got a feeling like that, it was going to happen unless it was prevented. However, as Michael scanned the next room for any sign of occupancy, the Chief Librarian's prophecy came true. "Attention, those of you who are invading the Geofront. We surrender. I repeat, we surrender. There will be individual soldiers approaching your positions to guide you to our bridge. They are UNARMED, I repeat, they are UNARMED. I hope we may sort this all out,"  
  
Michael smiled, and slung his BoltGun over his armored shoulder. "Well, I guess that was good,"  
  
...  
  
Wedge heard the message just as the Lord Primarch had, and ordered his men to ease up. Sure enough, after a few minutes a lone trooper in baege approached them, hands in the air. "Please don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"  
  
Wedge walked over to the trooper. Even if he had not been in his Power Armor, he would have still dwarfed the man by over a foot. As it was, the Assault Sergeant could see the man shivering with fear of he and his brethren. This was not supprising, for Power Armor had been designed with the intention of striking fear into the enemies of Man. "If you and your.... fellow troopers will follow me," the man said at last.  
  
Wedge turned to his fellow Marines, and spoke. "*Brothers, let us go with him,*" then he turned to the trooper. "May we proceed quickly?"  
  
The man nodded, and guestured toward a corridor to their right.  
  
...  
  
Lord Primarch Michael and Chief Librarian Williams followed the baege-suited man that had hooked up with them through the twisting, turning corridors of the Geofront. "*Reminds me of the Death in Vain, eh Gunther?*"  
  
Gunther nodded. The Death in Vain had been the first Space Hulk the Legion had encountered, back in 994 M.41. There were a few differences though, mainly the ancient feel of the vast ship and the fact that it had been chock full of Genestealers and Tyranids. The fight to secure the knowledge on that ship then destroy it had been fierce and bloody, costing many brethren their lives. Unfortunately the ship had not been destroyed, but had slipped back into that Hellish realm known as The Warp. Gunther's train of thought was interupted by the voice of their guide. "We're almost there,"  
  
"Very good," Michael said. "I wish to resolve this quickly, so as to gain some allies that could find us a base. One thousand Marines cannot be housed just anywhere,"  
  
The man stopped, and turned around to face Michael. He was quivering visibly as he spoke. "O-O-One THOUSAND!?!?!? B-b-b-but you only needed 35 to decimate US! You don't need one thousand!"  
  
"On the contrary, I have sometimes needed more than Three Thousand to pacify a planet completely. And I have Ten Thousand at my commmand. Believe you me, once you've faced the sort of horrors I have, you'll know that sometimes Ten Thousand Marines is NOT enough," With that, Michael turned back to walking in the same direction. "Well, will you not guide us through this laberynth?"  
  
The man pointed a shaky hand toward a large, metal door. "Through there. The Commander is waiting for you,"  
  
Michael nodded to Gunther, and they walked to the door. ^Early electric latch. Hm,^ Michael thought as he pressed a button to the right of the doorway. Steel groaned and gears clanked as the massive doors retreated to within the walls. "*Well well, what have we here?*"   
  
Beyond the massive doorway stood an elaborate catwalk system, leading to a small plateau that seemed to be a command center. However, what was truely impressive were the two giant humanoid objects standing in the giant valley that the catwalks crossed. One was mostly white, with a single 'eye', if it could be called an eye, in the middle of it's head. The other one was a big purple monstrosity with a horn sticking out of it's head. "*Ugly, isn't it?*"  
  
"*Yes, it does lack a certain..... asthetic sense. But I wonder what it is,*" Gunther replied.  
  
The trooper pointed to the plateau, his arm still shaking. "Up there. You need to go up there,"  
  
"*Come on Gunther,*" Michael said as he began walking toward the plateau.  
  
...  
  
Terk stood, staring at what had so encaptured the Lord Primarch and Chief Librarian. "*What do you suppose it is?*" he asked Brother Chakran.  
  
"*I don't know. Could be a Titan,*"  
  
Their escort pointed towards the plateu on the other side of the catwalk system. "The Commander is awaiting you," he said, his skin chalk white with fear.  
  
"Very well," Terk said, and began negotiating the catwalks until a voice called out to him. "*Terk!*"  
  
"*Wedge? What the Hell are you doing here?*"  
  
Wedge walked over to Terk, removing his helmet as he went. "*Same as you. Securing this place in the name of The Emperor,*"  
  
"*Really? Then why are you down there rather than up here with us?*"Called a voice from far away.  
  
"*We are coming, my lord,*" Wedge intoned.  
  
...  
  
Two men were on that plateau that Lord Primarch Michael and Chief Librarian Gunther traveled to. One sat behind a desk, his gloved hands folded across his face. The other stood, his bare hands clasped behind his back. "I am Lord Primarch Michael, Leader of the Legio Astartes Dark Truth, Commander of 10,000 Angels of Death. I demand your utter and unconditional surrender,"  
  
"I am Gendo Ikari, Head of NERV institute. What right have you to demand such a thing from me?" the one who sat said. His voice was low, and evil seemed to drip from every syllable.  
  
"Ikari, do not be so foolish. Perhaps they can aid us," the other said.  
  
"Aid you against what?" Michael queried, his curiosity teased.  
  
...  
  
"Where the Hell are they," Brother-Captain Mikaleus Linux asked.  
  
A voice crackled back across the comm-net. "I've lost them on sensors, but before I did, I registured heavy fighting in their sector. I do not know if any have fallen,"  
  
"My thanks, Lord Admiral," returned Mikaleus. "3RD COMPANY HONOUR GUARD! ATTENTION!"  
  
100 black armored men snapped to rigid attention, their massive Power Axes standing to full 7 foot height, their kraken-penetrator pattern Bolters slung across their armored back. "I will lead in a squad of 10. Honoured Veteran Sergeant Lukenzi, you will take your squad and accompany me to their last known location,"  
  
Lukenzi, a 7 foot 2 man in his late 30's with dirty blonde hair and a thickening beard, stepped forward and knelt before the Captain. "I am honoured, Brother-Captain. The 331st Shall serve The Emperor in Holy Combat," He stood, and 9 other warriors formed a diamond behind him. Their axes were now held in combat stance, and the company began moving into the city in double-time.  
  
...  
  
"You expect us to believe your story about these 'Demons' you call 'Angels' attacking this city? What do you take us for?" Lord Primarch Michael gibed.  
  
"We speak only the truth," the one called 'Gendo' replied.  
  
"*Lord, I sense deciet in his thoughts. They churn, they are orderly, yet chaotic.*" Gunther growled, his eyes shut tight.  
  
"*Truely? Chaotic as in the Archfoe, or as in disorderly?*"  
  
Gunther inhaled deeply, the scent of incense heavy in his helmet. "*I cannot tell. Most likely merely purpousfully disorderly.*"  
  
"*It's obvious he's lying, M'lord,*"Ptlam piped in now that the point squads had arrived. The Spacers and the Bombasts were still en route within the base. "*You can tell by his eyes. They're so...Damned. I've only seen that look on The Lost and The Damned.*"  
  
Michael nodded, and drew a Bolt Pistol. Several of the Techs took objection to this, and several Bolt Guns immediatly drew lines of fire to them. Confronted with the weapons that had decimated their security forces, the Techs backed down. Michael's gaze, however, never left Gendo's eyes. "My men think you to be a servent of the Archenemy of Mankind, the Dread Foe known as Chaos. Tell me, whom is your God?"  
  
Gendo replied in a low, emotionless voice. "I serve God himself."  
  
"*Gunther?*"  
  
The Chief Librarian's eyes moved about under his closed lids. "*He speaks true. He is not a servent of the Fallen Gods.*"  
  
Michael nodded, and holstered his Bolt Pistol. "You speak true. I still demand your unconditional surrender,"  
  
Gendo nodded, seeing that the situation was hopeless. "Where do I sign?"  
  
...  
  
"*Move! Damn you, move!*" cried Brother-Captain Mikaleus. The Honour Guard marines had been ambushed by a platoon of bauge-clad troops with primitive autoguns.  
  
"*Axes!*" Leukenzi hollered, and ten massive power axes were brought to bear. As one, the Marines engaged three troopers each, and hacked all three in two with one massive swipe. A return swing decapitated a further 30. Only 25 troopers now remained, and they were terrified. "Mercy! Mercy!" One cried, his gun thrown down and his hands in the air.  
  
"*Hold!*" ordered Mikaleus. "You surrender, unconditionally?" he said in the unfamiliar tounge.  
  
The young trooper nodded shakily. "Anything to stop the killing," he sobbed.  
  
"*Honoured Brothers Relin and Tiberius. Escort them back to the landing platform.*"  
  
"*As you command, Honoured Sergeant,*" And with a bow, they escorted the prisoners off at gunpoint.  
  
"Now, how far are we from the last known position of The Honoured Lord Primarch?" Mikaleus asked.  
  
"Approximately 1 Kilometer, sir," Leukenzi replied. "It should take us approximately 10 minutes to reach their last known position,"  
  
Mikaleus nodded at this. "Then let us move at double time. There will be no telling how much blood will be shed today...." ^And I Hope and Pray that none of that blood is The Honoured Lord Primarch's^  
  
...  
  
Gendo took a pen out of his very ordered desk, and signed the paper on his desk. The Lord Primarch then took a chunk of warm wax, and pressed his sword's hilt into it as his seal. "Thus our peace is concluded. I will require shelter for my men. 1000 will be the number,"  
  
Gendo didn't even look phased, though the older man standing behind him whistled in awe. "Very well. However, I do request that you perform for me a favor. There are two children in this base. I hope that you will post a few of your.... 'men' to guard them,"  
  
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Are they yours?"  
  
"One is, the other is adopted. They are the pilots of the Evangelions I told you of,"  
  
Michael though for a moment. "*Lord, it should be no trouble to spare a few Marines to guard them. I'll even volunteer for the duty,*" Gunther growled.  
  
Michael nodded, and spoke. "*Very well. So long as I accompany you,*" Michael turned to Gendo. "Very well. Gunther and I have decided that we shall guard the children ourselves. Nothing will harm them until we lie dead,"  
  
Gendo nodded, and guestured to a young woman with dark purple hair. "This is Captain Katsuragi. She shall see to your needs. Think of her as your liason officer,"  
  
"My thanks," Michael nodded curtly, as though to a subbordinate, and walked over to where Captain Katsuragi waited. "Captain,"  
  
"Captain Misato Katsuragi, at your service, sir," she piped, anxiety visible on her face.  
  
"Well, Captain. Shall we make leave to visit our wards?" Gunther asked, the Japanese rolling off his tounge with the smoothness of someone used to speaking a much more fluid language.  
  
The young Captain was obviously quite put off by the stranger's near-perfect Japanese, and it was some time before she managed to make a reply of any sort. "Y-Yes," she finally managed, putting on a weak and shaky smile. "If you gentle...... beings will follow me?"  
  
"After you," Michael said, in a polite voice.  
  
...  
  
^They've deffinately been here,^ Mikaleus thought as he held up a spent Boltgun shell. ^And those Promethium pools are still burning. They must have fought here not more than ten minutes ago,^   
  
"Brother-Captain," Leukenzi said. "We await your command,"  
  
Mikaleus stood. "Very well. Let us proceed further into this...... " Mikaleus thought for a moment. He didn't really know what it was. "......base. Our comerades must not be far from here,"  
  
...  
  
The room was dark, save for a small desklight in the center of the room. That desklight was set upon a finely crafted desk made from imported Pine wood. Aside from the chair that accompanied the desk, the room was completely devoid of any other furnishings. While this would have made sense if the room were small, it made no sense in this case. The room in which the desk sat was immense, with a highly detailed and intricate mural painted on the ceiling, and mirrored on the floor precicely. The room could be considered wasteful, and with good reason. All that it held was one man, sometimes two. Currently, only one man occupied it. He sat at the desk, staring at an open book. It was a fairly fat book, something the size of a Bible or a Book of Law. The room sat in complete silence. The man reading the book apparently read and re-read the same passages over and over, for he never turned the page. Then the door to the wasteful room opened; shattering both the silence and the darkness. "Come in, Fuyutski. I need to speak with you,"  
  
The man who had opened the door, Fuyutski, walked towards the desk. "I know. Did the scrolls predict this?"  
  
The man at the desk sighed. "No, they did not. I think, though, that this will actually help us along with our plans. The 5th is due to attack any time now, and after the fifth cometh the second,"  
  
Fuyutski nodded. "Ah yes. The firey one. Have you given any thought as to what the old men will say?"  
  
The man behind the desk nodded. "I will have them wrapped around my finger. Plus, the near-total destruction of the NERV secruity force has eliminated all but one of their spies, in this branch anyway."  
  
Fuyutski grunted. "I wonder if they know how many lies their spies are telling them?"  
  
"It does not matter. As long as they believe even one to be true, it serves our cause. But these, 'Marines' I believe is what they called themselves, should serve us well in the WeltStrebenKampf."  
  
"And if they suspect they are being manipulated?"  
  
The man behind the desk leaned forward into the light, reveiling the features of Gendo Ikari. "Then they will be dealt with,"  
  
... 


End file.
